Chapter Six- Third Time's A Charm
It felt good to be home. Within the cozy walls of Breezehome, Laure and Vilkas rested a few days, waiting for Aela and Athis to return from the Rift, hopefully bringing Roast back with them. Laurelin had filled Vilkas in on her failure to find any further information about her watcher. It disturbed him that there were no clues, but he was still adamant that the Horn needed to be returned. Laurelin agreed, but she wasn't in a hurry to walk into a potential trap. Nor was she keen on the idea that somebody was simply toying with her.
While they waited for Aela and Athis, Laure and Vilkas began the task of trying to get Torvar out of the rut he was stuck in. With quiet support from the others, they began taking him out on patrols and giving him small jobs, requiring that he be sober. At first he protested that he could fight just as well inebriated as not; but Farkas, Laure and Vilkas stayed firm.
"You're always saying you want to go out on jobs," Farkas rumbled to the blond Nord standing before him on shaky legs. "Great. Your job right now is to prove to us you can do them without being sauced."
"What my brother is trying to say is that you still need to prove yourself capable of doing the tasks ahead of you to our satisfaction," Vilkas added, hand resting on Torvar's slumped shoulder. "This is your chance to prove yourself. Are you going to let it slip away, or will you take it and make your life, fill it with glory and honor?"
Laurelin came up and lifted his chin with one finger so he had to look her in her pale, penetrating eyes. "I have seen you fight, brother. You have skills that are being ill used right now. Put aside the reliance on drink; you don't need it. We will all be here to help. But the final decision is yours. You can be a Companion, or you can be a drunk. What will you be, Torvar?"
His bleary eyes focused on hers. "Do I have to stop drinking entirely? I don't know if I can handle being sober when you lot are all living it up in celebration."
"I think it would be best if you refrained as much as possible until the habit of drink is broken. I see nothing wrong in the occasional drunken revel. That is how we tend to celebrate, you're correct. It just can't be every day."
"I...I'll try. For you three if nothing else." He sighed heavily.
"You will do this. For yourself, before any one else. That's what counts." Farkas gave him a heavy, friendly pat on the shoulder, which staggered the slighter man, and led him out to the practice yard. "Let's go have a little match before breakfast, get the blood flowing."
Laure and Vilkas watched Torvar being led away a moment, then turned to each other. "That went better than I anticipated," Vilkas observed. "Now we just get him confident and satisfied, don't let him fall into his old habits, and we just might make a worthy fighter of him."
"Easier said than done, love. He already feels like the Companions were his last chance to make something of himself. If he fails at this, I fear where he will end up out of his own sense of remorse and worthlessness."
"Don't fret over him, lovely. Farkas is perfect for this kind of job. He's gentle and sympathetic, yet Torvar will not be able to manipulate my brother as he might others. With time, he'll make improvements." He leaned forward and brushed her lips with his own, his fingers curling into her short hair. His kiss sent chills up and down her spine as she pressed herself closer.
"Good gods, you two get a damned room!" Njada called out as she came up the stairs. "I swear every time I see you two, you're lip-locked together." She sat down and began tearing into the food Tilma was setting out.
"That is a fine idea, shield-sister." Vilkas picked his mate up and threw her over his shoulder and marched for the stairs purposefully. Laurelin winked at Njada while giving Vilkas a few half- hearted thumps on his shoulders.
"Put me down, I can walk..." she objected with a broad grin.
"All in good time...all in good time," came his even reply.
Vilkas pushed the door open and stood aside, his back to the door so Laurelin could enter first. The inn was a small, neatly kept establishment, largely unoccupied at this early hour of the afternoon. The two Companions glanced about, but the only people present were the man behind the counter and a Breton woman with graying blonde hair, who pushed a pile of dirt across the floor with a straw broom.
Laurelin stepped up to the counter, ordering mead for her and Vilkas. As the man served them, she ventured, "Well met. Are you the proprietor of this charming inn, serah?"
The man shook his head, "Name's Orgnar, I just help out. Delphine over there owns the place." He nodded to the blond pushing the broom by the firepit. He slid two mugs over the counter and scooped up the coins laid on its planks. Laure sipped her drink and swiveled to face the Breton.
"I need to rent a room. I've heard from a friend the attic room comes highly recommended." Vilkas was still facing the bar, keeping an eye on Orgnar while Laurelin talked to the owner, just in case the man decided to try anything.
The owner stopped sweeping, her lightly lined face unreadable as she replied, "Attic room, eh? Well... we don't have an attic room, but you can have the one on the left. Make yourself at home." With that, she turned back to her sweeping.
Laure and Vilkas eyed each other over the rims of their mugs. Laure finished her mead, spun another handful of coin across the counter to Orgnar, and led Vilkas to the room on the left. He closed the door behind him and leaned his solid back against it, arms folded over his chest. His dark brow lifted in unspoken question.
Catching his look, not needing words, Laurelin sighed. "I don't know either, maybe my 'friend' isn't here at the moment. Unless..." she snapped her fingers and at that moment a quiet knock came at the door. Vilkas moved to unsheathe his sword in the tiny room, but Laure shook her head. Slowly swinging the door open he peered out suspiciously. The blue clad owner was standing there, holding a small pile of linens.
"For the bed, may I come in?"
"Of course, fresh linen is always welcome. My thanks," came Laurelin's immediate response, while Vilkas moved out of the way. "Delphine, was it? You look familiar, though I can't place where we might have met before."
"I've owned and operated this inn for years. Perhaps you have stayed here before."
"This is my first time staying here, else I might have known there isn't an attic room. Perhaps you might explain a few things to me. Such as why a letter might reach me in a very out of the way place and recommend your attic room as being a good place to recover an item I seek. A room that apparently doesn't exist." Laure's smile was tight and didn't reach her eyes, but did show off her white, very sharp teeth.
"Ah...so you are the Dragonborn everyone has been talking about." Delphine reached into the linens, removed an ancient curved hunting horn, and held it out to Laurelin. "I believe this is what you are looking for, aye?" Laure took it in her palms and turned it over, inspecting it before tucking it into her pack.
"Well, thank you for the merry bit of fuckery that was. We'll be going now; as it turns out, your beds look too small for my lover and I, and Jorrvaskr has better accommodations. Keep the gold."
"Wait, we need to talk!" cried Delphine, hands out, trying to slow the tall mer sidling past.
"No, we don't. I do 'need' to return this horn to it's rightful owners though, and thanks to you, I've been too long about it. Now if you don't mind."
"Don't you want to know why I went in and took that before you could get to it?"
"Not really interested, no."
Delphine moved to stop Laurelin, but a wordless snarl from Vilkas stayed her hand. "Please, this is important, we need to speak. A few moments of your time is all I ask."
"Fine, I would absolutely love to hear what you have to say." Laurelin crossed her arms, leaning against the wardrobe. "It had better be worth the time and gold I spent trying to figure out who was trying to get me here."
"Not here, follow me." Delphine turned and walked through the common room, leading Laure and Vilkas into her room. "Close the door," she said in hushed tones to Vilkas, who was stabbing glances about the room, looking for threats. When he closed it, she turned to her wardrobe and opened it. Reaching back through the cabinet, she pushed open a hidden panel, revealing a staircase descending into a cellar or basement.
Weary of the cloak and dagger games, Laure shrugged and followed the Breton downstairs. Vilkas followed without word, ready to draw his sword at a moment's notice. Neither was sure how important the information this woman had really was, but they were about to find out.
Irritated by the delays, eager to get on to the long climb up the Throat of the World, Laurelin followed the short Breton woman into the basement, feeling Vilkas' warmth at her back, while Delphine crossed to a table with a map on it and spread her palms flat on its surface, leaning forward as she fixed a serious eye on Laure.
"The Greybeards seem to think you're the Dragonborn. I hope they're right."
"Odd as it may seem, they appear to be correct."
"I hope they are. But you'll forgive me if I don't assume that something's true just because the Greybeards say so. I just handed you the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. Does that make me Dragonborn, too?"
"I could set you on fire with the power of my Thu'um. Can you do the same?" Laure asked sweetly, her tight, sharp-toothed smile back in place.
Delphine blinked and smiled nervously. "Look, I'm not your enemy! I just handed you the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, didn't I? I'm trying to help, but you never can be too cautious, Thalmor spies are everywhere these days."
"So you think the Harbinger of the Companions is a Thalmor spy? Interesting. Where do you get your information? I would fire that person, hire better informants." Laurelin's eyes were flicking about, taking in the details of the room while she tried to check her temper.
"I never suspected the Harbinger of the Companions would be the Dragonborn. Just hear me out; my caution is born of years of hiding out. The Thalmor would love to learn my whereabouts."
"Still not seeing how I figure in all of this. I think I should be going, this is a waste of my time."
Laure turned to leave, and Delphine leaned further forward, her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"I shouldn't let you walk out of here, knowing what you know. But I guess even my-"
Laurelin leaned in herself, teeth bared, "Do you truly think you could stop me? And what am I supposed to know? You haven't told me anything yet." She let a hint of the power of her Thu'um resonate in her last word, just enough to tip over the potion bottles on the alchemy table in the corner. The Breton leaned back, unable to ignore how her threat had been answered.
Trying a new tactic, the innkeeper patted the air with her palms. "No need to get worked up. My apologies. Can we please talk? There is much I need to tell you, and truly, I am not your enemy."
"You've said that twice now but given little evidence. Talk, then." Laurelin's eyes glinted, her lips pressed together in a small frown, but she waited, arms crossed to hear the rest of what the other woman had to tell. Soon, talk of the dragon burial mounds, and dragons returning from the dead had her complete attention.
Vilkas listened in amazement as his Bosmer mate calmly offered to set the strange woman, Delphine, on fire. Granted, the Breton woman was now demanding Laurelin ride halfway across Skyrim to slay a dragon, thereby proving her standing as Dragonborn. Worse yet, the woman clearly had no idea what she was asking of his lover. To him, it seemed presumptuous to ask for help slaying a near mythical beast but offer so little for the favor given. No, it seemed beyond presumptuous.
This Delphine was the woman had gone into Ustengrav and single-handedly brought out the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, all in order to position Laurelin where she could be observed. Now, all Delphine wanted was further proof, in the form of one trifling, small, dead dragon. It's a good thing the innkeeper kept her expectations small, otherwise she might be disappointed, he thought to himself.
He could tell his partner was holding her temper tightly in check. With the amount of stress she had been through, thinking an unknown foe or rival was keeping tabs on her, she had been on edge for several weeks now. Finding out all the caution and worry had been for nothing only seemed to have irritated her further. The added factor of the beast blood only made it more difficult, but she was learning how to deal with the fire of her spirit, both from the blood and her dragon soul. He had watched her flounder under the weight of it all and had worried it was too much.
Yet she was bearing up underneath it all and was close to achieving a balance at last. The hot rage was being tempered into an ever more lethal weapon, but a weapon that refused to be manipulated without cause. He listened to the two women verbally spar back and forth initially, then settle into more reasonable tones as Delphine slowly spit out her story.
Eventually, his mate turned to him from Delphine, a neutral expression on her face. "Well, it seems that in order to prove that I'm not a Thalmor plant, and indeed the Dragonborn, I need to go do this. And as much as I dislike the song and dance that went with this farce, I think she may have the right of this. We need more information, and my curiosity is piqued. Will Farkas and Aela be able to manage without you for the next week or so?"
"Of course they will. But are you jesting?" His quick mind discerning her intention to take him with her.
"What would I be jesting about, love?"
"You would have me at your side while we fight a dragon? I would be honored to battle next to you against such a foe!" His mind raced over a list of equipment he needed to round up before they left. "I would like to go home and get a few things before we leave. When will you depart?"
Laurelin looked to Delphine who grimaced, before saying, "Time is of the essence. I would like to be on the road as soon as you are ready, Companions. Today would be ideal; however, I realize you will need to prepare for such a journey. Will tomorrow at midday give you adequate time to assemble your gear?"
Laurelin nodded. "Tomorrow at midday. We can travel together. Meet us at the front gates of Whiterun. From there we'll ride to Kynesgrove."
"Excellent. I'll see you tomorrow," replied Delphine as they climbed the narrow stairs from the cellar into the Sleeping Giant Inn.
Vilkas followed Laurelin from the inn, mind whirling about. He was going to fight a dragon! Farkas would be tremendously jealous. Was his armor up to such a fight? Where had he put the damned helm of his wolf armor, anyway? Should he take shield and long-sword or his greatsword? They should stop and purchase extra arrows and healing potions...
His mate's melodic voice brought him from his reverie. " I'm going to speak to Alvor, love. I have the feeling I'm going to need plenty of extra arrows. You go ahead; I'll catch up soon, aye?"
"Of course, I'll see you soon, my love," he replied as he took her in his arms and pressed a kiss to her lips, not caring who saw them. He broke away with a smile, watched her eyes drift open again.
"Never soon enough, love," came her response, words that made his heart soar.
The next day, Laurelin and Vilkas finished packing and went over last-minute instructions for Aela and Farkas over breakfast. Everyone in the mead hall knew what the Harbinger and Vilkas were about to do. Farkas dearly wanted to join the expedition, but he knew he was needed here at Jorrvaskr. It wouldn't be fair to Torvar to get him started on his road to sobriety and then leave him alone while chasing off after glory. So Farkas and Aela would stay home and continue working the whelps while Laure and Vilkas went and did what needed to be done. How much glory they would bring from this experience remained to be seen.
Vilkas was full of questions on the way down to the front gates, hoping to fill in the gaps of his knowledge in regards to fighting and slaying dragons. Laure had to admit she didn't know much about them, mostly that the great creatures were, if nothing else, very difficult to kill. Only having fought two, she didn't feel as much like a dragon slaying expert as she did a novice tracker. She could only hope she survived long enough to become an experienced dragon hunter.
Delphine was lingering near the stables at the bottom of the hill, pacing to and fro. Wearing armor now instead of her street clothes, she cut an imposing figure, with her shoulders back and a strange, slender bladed longsword sheathed and slung over her shoulder. All hint of her being a simple innkeeper had vanished.
"Good morning, Delphine," called out Laurelin as they approached.
"Good, you're here. I was hoping I wouldn't need to come find you. We should leave immediately." Her horse was waiting, saddlebags bulging with supplies, bow and quiver slung over the pommel of the saddle. Laure and Vilkas walked by with small nods.
"Good morning to you too. We are quite well, thank you," Vilkas muttered to Laure as they both saddled their horses. She grinned over Roast's back at him; she had been thinking the same thing. Before long, Roast was saddled and Laurelin's gear safely tied on. She mounted up and trotted Roast over to where Delphine and Vilkas waited.
She cried out to Vilkas, a broad smile on her face, "You ready to go slay a dragon, lover?"
"Rampaging, daedric mammoths couldn't keep me away. Let's get going!" Prodding his gelding into a gallop, he and Laure raced for the bridge, Delphine frowning, trotting her horse along at a more measured pace.
At the Valtheim Towers, Laure and Vilkas got to witness Delphine in battle for the first time. As usual, bandits were occupying the nearly identical structures that guarded the narrow span arcing over the swift river below. Delphine rode the first thug she encountered down with her horse before dismounting and charging up the stairs of the near tower, sword in hand. Her zeal for killing the thugs nearly equaled her skill. By the time Laure and Vilkas had dismounted, three bodies littered the stairs leading up to the outer landing of the tower. Delphine was engaged with one bandit, while three more crossed the slender bridge, weapons ready. Vilkas moved up the short ramp leading left to the bridge, sword and shield poised if Delphine should need assistance. Laurelin had dropped to the right and was lobbing arrows across the river, distracting the two archers on the rocks.
Delphine cut down her closest opponent and stepped into the doorway behind her, glancing up to see another archer moving to a better vantage. "Hold the bridge, I'll take care of that archer up there." She called to Vilkas, who readily stepped forward, a grim smile on his face, Ysgramor's shield before him, a gift from Laurelin the night before.
Laurelin appeared at his side, and it was then he noticed the annoying bolts of the archers had ceased. She drew her sword and shield, then skipped in front of Vilkas long enough to line up with the nearest bandit, then Shout, "Fus Ro," before stepping back to let Vilkas cut down the two stunned bandits, who were now prone on the bridge, trying to maintain their balance on the worn stones. At that moment, a choked cry from above made Laure and Vilkas glance up, just in time to see the archer from above be shoved off the top landing, to hurtle past and land in the shallows at the shore of the river far below. Delphine, up on the landing still, pointed with her sword.
"One more, look sharp!" Sure enough the last man had regained his feet and courage and was recklessly charging the last few feet. Laurelin, still a bit lower standing on the ramp, stuck her sword between his legs and tripped him, while Vilkas smashed his shield into the man's head as he fell, and then stabbed him for good measure.
"I love how dirty you fight, my lovely. That's some pretty quick thinking for an old lady!" exclaimed Vilkas, his eyes shining as he sheathed his sword.
"You need to teach me that shield bash; I love it! I'll get you for the 'old lady' comment later. In private." Arm in arm they went past the now deceased bandits, taking any gold or valuable items they found along the way. Delphine hurried after, listening to the two lovers banter as they descended the tower steps. Before long they were mounted and back on the road, riding past the Throat of the World and on into Eastmarch.
Delphine wanted to push straight on through to Kynesgrove, but as it grew darker and colder, she finally agreed that they could camp for the night and finish the journey in the morning. None of them really wanted to potentially confront a dragon in the dead of night. They camped off the road, near the steaming thermal pools of the Aalto region. Laure and Vilkas rubbed down the horses and tethered them nearby, then went to soak in the mineral-rich water.
Vilkas eased himself into the nearly scalding water with a little hiss of air through his teeth, then relaxed down. Laure waded in appreciatively, then floated on her back, looking up at the stars above. She and Vilkas soaked for an hour, then ran back to camp bare and damp, to dry off in front of the blazing fire Delphine had built before crawling into the small tent they had brought. Laure poked her head back out long enough to say, "When you're ready to rest, call me for my turn at watch." With that she disappeared again.
The Breton warrior turned her gaze from the fire, and she paced her watch, trying to ignore the not-so-muffled sounds of the two Companions making love in the relative privacy of their tent. Hours later, Delphine found her eyes growing heavy with sleep and called out, "Dragonborn, it is midnight. I will rest until dawn if you are ready for your watch."
Laure poked her head out, hair tangled and wildly askew. "Sure, take your rest, I'll be right out."
Delphine rolled herself up in her bedroll and went immediately to sleep, while Laure and Vilkas kept watch. Neither had slept, too excited and nervous about the upcoming battle they faced to sleep.
They spoke little out loud, but their minds were becoming more and more adept at reading moods, certain thought patterns. They would receive impressions of what the other was seeing or smelling, hear ghosts of sound that the other heard. It wasn't like any conversation Laurelin had ever experienced, but Vilkas seemed already accustomed to it, and their minds flowed together seamlessly. She was beginning to understand the silent communication that often seemed to occur between the twins. They kept watch together until dawn lightened the sky and Delphine roused herself. Still saying little, the three saddled the horses and continued up the road.
A frantic woman rushed down the slope toward the three riders, shouting as she pelted down the trail, "No! You don't want to go up there! A dragon...it's attacking!" She continued down the road and quickly disappeared.
"Well, I guess that's what we're here for, eh, Delphine? Looks like you were correct." She and Vilkas dismounted, tightened armor, and put on helms before lifting satchels containing healing potions and the like.
Not far away, the deep bellow of a dragon sounded, echoed down the hills. Vilkas looked up with eagerness and trepidation in his eyes.
"Nervous, love?" Laure asked as she slipped an enchanted ring on her finger, tossing him an identical one.
Vilkas caught the ring and slipped it on. "I would be a fool if I wasn't, but I am excited as well. This is an amazing opportunity."
Delphine listened to the two as they finished their preparations. She was beginning to understand why the elf traveled with the tall Nord Companion. His love of meeting an exciting new challenge was becoming more and more evident. He would never back down from a fight, and he clearly would never allow harm to befall his lover if he had any say in the matter. Delphine could respect that in a man. Whether his skill would end up being equal to his passion remained to be seen.
Ready at last-although it had only been a few minutes-the three crept carefully up the hillside, following the bone-chilling cries of the dragon upward.
Laure felt dizzy and nauseous all of a sudden. She was looking almost directly up at the terrifying black dragon from Helgen, the one with the burning red eyes. He hovered above the trees, booming out a strange incantation in the dragon tongue. Laure could almost make out what was being said, the dormant dragon souls inside her giving her hints, tastes of what the meanings were.
Delphine, some feet off to the side, had sworn in amazement when they first spotted the huge creature flying overhead. They opted to wait and watch, see what would follow. Now the black dragon was using his Voice, summoning bright energies that dove into the burial mound and lifted out the ancient bones of another dragon. The energy flowed around the bones, quickly knitting them together with fresh sinew and muscle, hard scales and horn blooming across the flanks, until a living, breathing dragon shook itself free of the last dust of it's former grave.
"Ysmir's beard, how is that possible?" breathed Vilkas quietly.
"The black one is the one that destroyed Helgen. I recognize him." Dread coiled hot and sour in her belly as the huge monster spoke in his guttural voice to the newly remade dragon. Most of what was being said made no sense, but she was able to discern certain meanings from the conversation, such as the names they called each other: Sahloknir and Alduin.
While the two dragons spoke, Laure and Vilkas edged farther away, taking scant cover behind some boulders nearby, minds racing while they tried to mentally steel themselves for not one, but two dragons. Laure's anxiety had her heart racing. The black dragon had called a storm of flaming chunks of rock the last time she had encountered him. Alduin. And now he was calling the other dragons back from the dead.
Suddenly the fiery gaze of Alduin swiveled her way, transfixing her instantly. His deep voice rasped passed his glinting fangs as he spoke to her, finally acknowledging the puny mortals hiding below.
"Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi. You do not even know our tongue, do you? Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah." He paused a moment and then with some relish said, "Sahloknir, krii daar joorre." With that he wheeled away, wings booming as he left the site of the burial mound.
None of them needed a translation of these words; the intent was clear. The newly raised dragon, Sahloknir beat his wings, gaining the air in seconds, a loud bellow echoing across the hillside. He looped back around, opening his jaws to Shout, the three mortals below already firing arrows that mostly bounced off his scaly hide.
Laure braced herself for the the flames he was sure to breathe at them, not looking forward to the heat and the roar of fire as it crackled over her. Vilkas was similarly braced, a tight grim smile on his face as he watched the beast soar overhead.
It strafed over the three fighters, and a scintillating cloud of ice crystals lashed Laure and Vilkas without mercy. As the stinging, burning cold washed over her, an involuntary cry of pain was choked in her frozen lungs. She couldn't breathe; her muscles were locked in an excruciating grip of ice. In that instant of trying to breathe, Laure realized her mistake; apparently not all dragons breathed flame. This one was different, and she had brought equipment enchanted to protect Vilkas and herself from fire.
"Aaah, take off the ring, take it off!" she gasped when she could finally breathe and move again, hastily ripping off her useless jewelry. She could feel shadows of Vilkas' own pain and discomfort, but it seemed to have not affected him as badly. He was already dropping his ring, glancing from her to Sahloknir above, who was looping back for another attack.
Delphine had avoided the wintery blast and was still screaming obscenities at the beast while she arced arrow after arrow up at him. Laurelin and Vilkas separated and resumed firing upward trying to whittle down its reserves of energy and weaken it while giving him fewer grouped targets to blast with ice.
With the three of them spread out as they were, Sahloknir was forced to divide his attentions more than he wished to. Then he was unpleasantly surprised when the mer Shouted fire at him and caught his head in the roiling flames. Blinded, he crashed, skidding across the ground, leaving a deep furrow behind. The calls of delight and excitement from Delphine and Vilkas hazily sounded in his skull as the fire was quenched by the damp soil. Perhaps the mer was Dragonborn after all, he was forced to concede to himself.
"Mind the tail and wings!" Laure called out to Delphine as she and Vilkas spread out around the wounded dragon. Delphine nodded, gripping her strange sword and a dagger of elvish make in each hand as she edged closer. The two humans and one mer closed in from three different directions, lashing out when opportunity presented itself.
Laure and Vilkas hunched down behind shields, stalking about Sahloknir's flanks, ready to press in or fall back as needed. With their minds resonating together the way they were, the battle became more of a choreographed dance than a melee. When Delphine had his attention, the tall mer and her mate swarmed in from behind, blades flashing brightly, then they retreated just as swiftly, shields high to protect against further icy breath attacks as the afflicted dragon once more turned his attention their way.
Sahloknir's wings were tattered strips, and blood streamed hot and burning down his flanks as he roared and Shouted, tail lashing to and fro. His dagger-like wing claws pounded down, trying to pin one of his foes, but every time he turned his attention one way, another of the pests jumped in from behind to gnaw away. He was hurting them; he saw this. Everyone was bloodied and burned with frostbite, but they refused to give in, and the Dragonborn-he hissed this quietly to himself in disbelief-was proving to be an annoyance he couldn't disregard anymore.
Ignoring the agonizing attacks coming from the Nord male and Breton female, Sahloknir turned his whole attention to eliminating her. He spun about and tore gouges into the ground as he scrambled towards her, wincing slightly at the burning tears he felt on his flanks and face. To be raised from the dead, and to be confronted with a Dovahkiin so soon after being revived. It made him furious, and his fury was directed at the tiny mer scuttling backward, away from him at this very moment.
His great, scaled and horned head rose up, then descended, fanged maw ready to snap her up and crunch satisfyingly into her frail form, squeeze the life from her and taste her blood. He didn't hear the furious shout from the male, nor the exultant battle cry of the other woman. He found himself looking into the icy blue eyes of the mer and found her returning his gaze coolly, saw as if in slow motion the sharp punch of her abdomen as she exhaled in a Shout, and then he was engulfed with fire again. Burning! Agony! Mercy!
Sahloknir felt what seemed like hundreds of sharp blades rending his flesh while his face burned. He roared in pain and anger, his jubilation at finding himself alive again now turning to ash as swiftly as his hopes of surviving his first encounter with this Dovahkiin. He realized he hadn't been meant to survive this encounter. Alduin had deceived him, his resurrection had been been little more than a move in his game, to lure out the Dragonborn.
He hurt all over now, was feeling sluggish from loss of blood. He was having trouble focusing, and his hearing seemed to be dimming. He knew he was being overwhelmed by the three joorre. As he felt the strength slipping from his body, Sahloknir gave one last lunge toward the Dragonborn, hoping to inflict enough damage on her to take her with him. His bloodied head snapped toward the agile mer, who skipped to the side and deflected his attack with her shield, following it up with a strike of her blade on his cheek.
Vilkas reacted with lightning speed when he saw the dragon's head dart toward Laurelin, roaring in fury he lashed out, carving away at the beast's neck, smashing with his shield as he danced under the pumping wings, creating new ribbons of blood to color its flanks.
The damn thing was bigger than he had thought and cursedly hard to damage, but they were doing it. He could hear the great heart inside beating madly, could sense the swelling hollowness of its body as it weakened and its spirit retreated.
Its broad, torn wings swept out, knocking Delphine to the ground for an instant, but the hardy Breton woman popped right back up and charged in behind the wing, sword flicking about. Glad he didn't need to be concerned for the other woman, Vilkas waded in once more, his sword cutting deep into Sahloknir's neck and chest. It gave a great shudder, wings, head and tail all flung up convulsively before they slammed back into the ground with a muffled thump that nearly shook him off his feet. In that instant, Vilkas knew they had defeated the great creature. He stood panting, bloody sword still high, gazing at his mate across the stretch of Sahloknir's neck
Her hair was wild, eyes wide, and blood ran out of several wounds on her face and legs; but she was alive! Their eyes met and locked for an instant before she was leaping over the dead dragon's neck, sword forgotten as she leaped into his arms.
"By the Gods, you are sexy, love!" she murmured before covering his face with hot hungry kisses. He growled deeply, her lips setting his blood boiling as he pulled her into a crushing embrace. His mouth found hers and claimed a victorious kiss from her, his teeth nipping her bottom lip. His relief over surviving, and in fact triumphing over such a foe, was fueled by the rising heat of his adoration and devotion to the mer in his arms. Their blades fell to the ground, forgotten for the moment.
For years he had despaired of finding someone he could relate to, to share his life and passions with; and now, after he had sworn off women as a distraction from his duties, the woman of his dreams was quietly saying around soft kisses what he had never hoped to hear, nor feel the truth of.
"I love you, Vilkas of the Companions. Never let me go." His head spun about, and warm golden light seemed to be swirling about Laurelin and himself, confirming her words, his love in return. The light streaked about them, and through the twining of their thoughts, he experienced the raw power of the dragon soul infusing itself into his mate. Through her, he felt the elation, the terror and rage, the acceptance. He could feel her shaking with the intensity of the energy suffusing her body but could only offer the comfort of his arms around her, his lips to soothe away the anguish that came with the power. The gratitude he felt shining from her lifted his heart anew, and he knew it matched his own.
They finally tore themselves away after Delphine repeatedly cleared her throat and tried to get the Dragonborn's attention. Vilkas mentally shook his head free of his delirium and realized they were having an intensely passionate moment in the scoured bones of a dead dragon.
"So you really are... I... it's true, isn't it? You really are Dragonborn." Delphine seemed to be somewhat taken aback. Here she had witnessed undeniable proof that Laurelin was Dragonborn, and from the looks of things, she hadn't truly been expecting it. The Breton sheathed her weapons and straightened up, a small smile on her face. "I owe you some answers, don't I?"
Laurelin nodded, giving a small smile of her own in return. "Oh, aye. I think it's past time to tell me what you want with me." She picked up her sword and handed Vilkas his. She asked question after question of Delphine before her curiosity was sated.
The two Companions prowled through the skeletal remains of the dragon, picking up loose gems and coins while the two women talked. Delphine tried to wave off her third of the findings, but Laurelin insisted. Finally she took the money before saying, "I'm heading back to Riverwood; we can make further plans there. Meet me at the inn and we can talk more. We need further information on what the Thalmor are up to, and with your help, Dragonborn, we can get it."
"I'm overdue at High Hrothgar. When I'm done up there I'll find you at the inn." Laure and Delphine shook hands and then the Breton turned away, passing quickly out of sight as she hiked down the hill. Vilkas stood behind his mate and waited for what came next. His body still tingled slightly, residual energy and excitement from the battle making his limbs and skin prickle.
She turned his way, hand drifting out to slide up his chest. "I think we've earned ourselves a night in a bed, what say you my love?"
"You'll hear no argument from me. You never mentioned the fact that dragon's blood stinks so badly."
"I don't remember it being this pungent. I think it must be our sensitive noses. So how did you like slaying such a mighty beast? Was it as glorious as you hoped?"
Vilkas shrugged as they strode down the hill. "It was glorious, terrifying, and at the same time, deeply sad. I..." He broke off a moment, struggling to find the words. It should have been simple, but he couldn't form his thoughts enough to elucidate properly. "I could feel his soul as it entered yours. I've never experienced anything like that, not even with the blood. It was as if I could hear his thoughts and feel so many emotions, ages of experience and knowledge; I could sense the intelligence in it, and it humbled me in ways I never imagined. How do you contain all of that within you?"
Laurelin was quiet, her eyes on the path. "I don't know. I wish I did. Perhaps the gods gave me some way of absorbing it all. They must have; I think I would have been overwhelmed by now if they didn't."
"So what comes next?" They nodded at the handful of Windhelm guards rushing up the hill, "Will we be traveling to High Hrothgar come morning?"
"Aye, we should be able to make Ivarstead by tomorrow evening. The day after that will see us climbing. Have you ever made the ascent?"
"I have, although the Greybeards themselves were never about. I left some food in that big chest and listened to the wind howl. It was stormy, so I was never able to get a good look out from the heights."
"Perhaps the weather will be more favorable this time. It wasn't very clear when I was up there either. Let's get inside; I'm starving and need to bathe, and so do you, my love. Too bad they are unlikely to have a tub big enough for the both of us."
They pushed into the tiny inn, both ready to unwind and recount their experience with Sahloknir over a tankard of something warming.
Iddra, the proprietor, gladly pressed warm mead and hot food into the Companions' hands, then scurried about, heating water and putting clean linen on the bed they rented for the night. She was genuinely thrilled to still be able to do such things still. A few hours ago, she had been fleeing for her life, and now she was back home, everything intact.
It was shaping up to be a busy night; news was always a lodestone for locals hungry for something different to rehash over the fire, and a dragon attack was considered quite newsworthy indeed. And if what Iddra was hearing was correct, this tall Bosmer was the Dragonborn! It could draw people all the way down from Windhelm, just so they could see the bones at the top of the hill, and then they would be thirsty, perhaps even want to linger a bit, hear the tales after dinner...Iddra wiped the counter clean again and bustled over to the Dragonborn. Her mug looked empty. It would never do to let anyone say hospitality in Kynesgrove was less than in the Palace of the Kings itself.
Laurelin and Vilkas raised their freshened mugs to Iddra and smiled. "Long life and prosperity to you for your excellent service. You have our thanks." The pale-haired mer had a sweet, low voice, and from the warmth of her tone, the innkeeper knew the elf meant every word. Oh the tales she would be able to tell! Keep that mug filled Iddra, perhaps she will come back later!
Once more, thank you wonderful readers for taking some of your precious time to adventure with Laurelin and the rest of her amazing Companions. If you ever have questions or comments, I would love to know. As the storyteller, there are always so many things I wish I could include, but end up getting omitted because of the length these chapters end up being already. Although these are "published" chapters, in my mind they are just a rough draft still, so suggestions and positive critiques are welcome. Also, feel free to leave me love, it makes all the tears and daydreaming worth it to know you all appreciate the work! Cheers! ~PyreIris~